


The Anachronistic Reaper

by kraftworkorange



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Multi, reaper Aradia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 02:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13649709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kraftworkorange/pseuds/kraftworkorange
Summary: Pulled from her time and life, Aradia has been gifted the opportunity of a new 'career'. Reaping souls isn't the most peaceful job but it definitely allows for some interesting ventures.





	1. An unusual discovery

An entire new batch of antiques had arrived today, much to Aradia's absolute delight and so she had immediately dived into sorting everything that she could lay her icy cold hands on. Partially to get it done quickly but also for the selfish reason of getting to touch these forgotten items first. Old, tarnished clasps on waxily varnished boxes. Silver teapots with the crusted remains of 120 year old tea leaves. Every light touch revealed a different story to her about its past. Even where a section of metal had been worn to a bright polish, caused by the oils of human hands and a tendency to worry with objects or a name scratched into the wooden panelling. It was endearing. And so very human.

It's a grounding experience, reminding her of those small habits that humans have. What makes them alive.  
Some days she's almost envious. But then she'll see the world keep turning long after they're all gone! Even if her hands didn't leave any traces of warmth or mark on the items.

A slight smile curls her lips at the thought of permanent existence as she looks up, a noisily ticking clock held between her hands as she peeks out the window. The jarring feeling of unexpectedly making eye contact makes her jump, clock rattling anxiously until she puts it down, her eyes caught by an unusual pair that stare back at her. One brown, one blue. The boy outside seems... equally confused, which is a relief, but then he scowls again and slouches away with his hands in his pockets.

Sure he wasn't the most _unusual person_ . But it was the cloak of spirits that clung to him, twisting, contorting around his body and whispering into his headphone stoppered ears that frightened her. No... Not frightened. Intrigued. It intrigued her beyond belief and reasoning.

Why would they choose him? To speak through this guy who wasn't a Reaper or anything of the sort, not one she could tell anyway. A curse perhaps? Misguided dabbling into ill-advised spells and majjks? Or the motives of some conniving spirits.   
It's certainly a reason to try talk to him some more but obviously, she has work to do and spirits to put to rest. That's her job after all. Her proper one.  
Being in the antique shop was more for her own benefit and interests than anything else, it's not like she needs the money for rent or anything. That's what squatting's for! Way more exciting and interesting than just renting.  Especially in the abandoned factory that she called her home nowadays. The perfect balance of eerie and homely. To her at least.

The ticking clock is gently patted like a snoozing dog and laid back into its cotton filled box, Aradia considering her options. Spend the rest of her day here or go stalk follow that boy and try found out what the heck is the haps over there. Hmm... maybe she needs to stop spending quite so much time with Dave. He's really starting to affect her speech. Aradia shakes her head to clear it, dark curls dancing at the movement as they're momentarily freed from her collar. Right! Stop procrastinating, Megido. Time to get your investigation cap on. And hopefully before he straight up disappears.

Aradia steps out the shop to the cheerful jingle of the bell above the door with her cherry red cloak around her shoulders, hood up as she vanishes from the sight of mortals. Appropriate for following though she has to be wary around reflective surfaces in this form. Most don't take too kindly to a skull face and piercing, red eyes floating behind them. She thuds along the street after him, pausing as he stops in front of a computer store, the windows full of advertisements and tackily bright pawn shop cards but there are a few deconstructed parts in here. Presumably that's what he's looking at. And also presumably trying to ignore the hiss and harsh whispers of the dozen ghosts that wrap around his shoulders.

They recoil with audible hisses from her, fleeing to other side of him as she raises a hand to attempt to grab one. "This is not your destined path. Come with me, and I will take you to your Final Rest." The whispering has abated somewhat and she can tell that the mystery boy had noticed but how he'd cocked an ear, looking around for the reason that the voices had stopped.  
A single ghost twists past him, beginning to speak in a loud whisper. "He is not living. Nor dead. Explain to us, red reaper, how. Why can he return to life. When we cannot." 

Its voice is like chalk on rough paper, grating and sending a chill across her already cold skin, Aradia hunching her shoulders in an automatic response.

Aradia blinked and then frowned, extending a glowing hand toward the spirit, this time more sternly. "I cannot tell you. Now c **ome with me.** " The Reaper voice was not her favourite, the deep, growling tone reverberating through the ground beneath her boots and answered by the high pitched crack of the second hand store window and a car alarm further down the street wailing in harmony as the second-hand store's alarm is triggered. The ghost is powerless against it and is drawn to her, Aradia's touch on its incorporeal form making it solid against her fingers, turning  from mist into glass. "With these Rites, may you rest peacefully and be remembered."  
With her words, a red painted door had appeared beside her and opened with a soft click and a squeak to expose the rippling darkness that lay beyond it. It was funny to her that there was the possibility of unoiled spirit hinges. Again, it grounded her like it was just another door, not one that lead to the spirit world. Now the door has been opened, the spirit is drawn into it, pulled into the promise of eternal life and Rest. Aradia looked back once the spirit had passed on and the door had been closed properly only to be met with the boy's back as he walked away. Shhhhhhoot. She definitely can't follow him now with him hearing! Oh, how wretched. A softly pealing bell catches her attention now and Aradia can turns to meet that familiar drawing sensation that she couldn't ignore.

Duty called.

And it called her to a small, roughly kept house at the edge of town. It was compact and made from wood, a porch across the front and the front yard littered with weeds and old toys, left to bake in the sun and drown in the rain. The gate squealed as Aradia stepped into the yard, closing it carefully behind her before she walked up to the porch. The door of the house was open, the noisy sounds of busy family life pouring from every open window. Laughter and the sounds of cartoons on the TV. A small child blowing raspberries to emulate the sound of a car.  
It was nice to hear, even if it would soon be replaced with the sounds of sorrow.

The well worn runners of the rocking chair creaked gently as the old woman tilted back and forth, speaking softly to the air and fretfully rearranging the heavy blankets that someone had lovingly tucked around her when she'd been set out in her chair earlier in the day. A white cat sat on the frilled pillow in the woman's lap and trilled at Aradia's approach, standing with a curious arch. The old woman looked up at her, eyes finally focusing for the first time as she stretched out a hand towards Aradia, gnarled fingers holding tightly. If only they could stay a little longer.

Aradia knelt down by the side of the old woman and leant to hug her, holding this fragile woman carefully in her arms. She'd been in the same school year as her, this relic of her past and one of the few remaining reminders of how life had been so long ago. Aradia moved back again, taking both of their withered hands in hers as her hood falls back around her shoulders. "Tell me your story, Amelie Grey. Tell me of your past." Her voice is soft, and she waits.

Slowly, with effort and patience the story is told to the reaper. Tales of heartbreak and childhood adventures in the golden, baked fields of the countryside. Of children running and playing and of adults becoming still and then even more so. By the end of it all the scarlet glow of the sun rests on the lip of the horizon, basking the porch with its final warmth as the old woman rests weakly in the chair, spent and tired. Aradia moves then, kissing their wrinkled forehead as her fingers take the hand of their spirit, the woman's body becoming cold and unresponsive as Aradia gently drew the spirit from it and sends her on through the red door. She remains sat on the porch for a while longer before letting out a whistle to alert the family and then moving on, saying goodbye to the body of Amelie Grey.


	2. The Belligerant Informant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Garlic bread goes flying and it's gross. Keep food in your mouth, kids.

Memories are a ... difficult matter to deal with since they're present in so much. Stories, conversations, even the dented plaster at the bottom of the stairs from an amusing accident. There were always traces of people left behind, permeating into the very atoms of the universe's fabric regardless of it being positive or negative. And sometimes seeing those clues of days past would be enough to bring the quirking smile of fondness to the cheek.

With the exception of reapers. 

Upon the creation of a reaper, that person no longer exists (due to becoming both a demigod figure but also to smooth out various complications like being recognised or spotted) and another face would simply fill their name. Family was no longer such, except from the reaper's view. But at least she has a friend who knows of her 'status' as a reaper and really, he just treated her like any other. Which was perfect. Even if she knew that he was destined to become a reaper someday soon. A fact that she'd never told him outright.

Several hours of reaping later and she finally stood at the doorway of her home, hearing the heavy, thudding bass of a musician at work, permeated by a quiet murmur and perhaps a rough caw in response before the music went back on. Looks like the birds were back. The music rang down the metal handrailing as Aradia went bouncing up the stairs, clattering onto the iron walkway at the top and immediately pulling off her cloak which was thrown onto the sofa and swiftly followed by her falling face first onto it. A long groan escapes her as she lies there, legs akimbo behind her. Even with this being her “work”, it was still exhausting to take spirits from their families. Hospitals were often the worst and there was definitely a nurse or two who could see her, reflections or not.

But whether that made it better or worse, she hadn’t decided yet really since it made her feel less of an … unreachable being? Maybe. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Regardless, it made her feel a little bit better, since her presence allowed for the reassurance that the patient wouldn’t be in pain for much longer. Even though it meant that they’d sometimes beg for her to spare them.

Which she could never do.

Aradia groans again and flops over, half falling off as she looks up into the skeptical face of her housemate, her reflection glinting back from his sunglasses.  
“You’re lookin worse than death, Megs. And that’s saying somethin’.” he says, a smirk just teasing at the corners of his lips before it fades away. “Pizza tonight? The piece of shit fridge has chilled its last, guess the Fridge Reaper got to it first.”

“Oh no! POS refrigerator… you lived a good life. Full of old bread and 5 month old ice cubes. Rest in peace.” Aradia sits up, looking up at Dave as he sweeps his blond hair back from his face. “Pizza sounds good! Garlic bread too?”  
Sure, she doesn’t need to eat but like it still tastes good! Nothing wrong with enjoying the few remaining human activities she could safely indulge in like eating. Same with sleeping.

Especially with Panuchi’s Pizza being 2 blocks away.

Honestly, she’d die for an extra slice of Panuchi’s if that was at all possible and it would absolutely be worth it. Especially lying flat out like this, watching her friend mixing on his laptop as his boyfriend occupied himself with the leftover garlic bread. Aradia peeks at him then sits up, struggling to not to fall into a pizza coma before she can ask him something. “Hey, Karkat! You know everyone, right?”  
A pair of glowering eyes look up from where he’s focused on ripping the hell out of the garlic bread, thick eyebrows drawing into a frown. “WHAT?” Jeez, he must have been gargling rocks again or something.  
“You can help yourself to water, you know. But yeah, you know everyone in this part of town right?” Aradia watches as Karkat’s frown deepens even as he picks up the bottle of water from by the couch, awaiting the insult that was about to thrown her way. It was a game really, seeing how long he’d talk before running out of breath.  
“How about you fucking shove this bottle so far up your asshole you become a fucking fountain, Megido.” He growls in her direction before taking a heavy swig, leaving garlicky finger marks on the plastic. “Lucky for you, I’m a fucking king at networking. An Emperor even.” He seems to be relishing that she’s asked him about something, running on until she interrupts him.  
“So have you met a guy who’s like… he’s yay high.” She says standing and reaching up with her hand. “Dark hair, sour face and different coloured eyes?”

The scoff tells her he definitely has, whether he likes it or not. “Oh, that unsufferable moron. He’s some technician shitwizard, may as well have an sphincter for a mouth for all the bullshit he spews from it.” He growls it but doesn’t seem … especially irate considering what he’d just said.  
“Oh! So you like him, okay. That’s good.” Aradia grins as Karkat’s face darkens, thick hair flicking into his eyes as he looks up at her. In anyone else, this would be a sign of danger if he wasn’t just full of hot air.

“Christ, you two would get on like a mangy, hobo garbage fire. Not to mention he’s as freakily obsessed over death as you are, Megido, you could fucking yap on into the asshole of forever with that pustulating maggot.” The garlic bread is shoved into his mouth with a strange fury that doesn’t belong with eating such deliciousness. “Always going on and fucking ON about ghosts and other supernatural shit as if he’s never heard of shutting the fuck up in his life. Oh waa waa, my life’s so hard, my dads always want to talk to me it’s disgusting, can’t they see I want to be a reclusive hermit dickhole so I can just jack off to my disgusting reflection in my cum-stained monitor.” Oh, oh that was some bread that just hit her leg. Aaand her cheek.

“Garlic bread is meant to stay in your mouth, Karkat. I get it, you’re basically best friends. Does he have a name beyond pustulating maggot?” God, she’s so close now, just a name away from finding out who he is! And it’s clear that a maniacal gleam had come to her eyes as an overbaked crust hits her between the brows, jolting her out of her excited reverie. “Hey!”

“Don’t ‘hey’ me, ghost girl. What’re you fucking planning? You going to stalk him like the creep you were always destined to be? I’ve heard you talking to Dave about everyone you’d had to ‘find’ and ‘search for’ and as far as my incredibly extensive knowledge of everything extends, you aren’t in the fucking coastguard.” Ohhh, yeah he’d seen her appear once and had never let her forget it though thankfully he didn’t know much beyond it. That’d be hard to explain. Since he’d nearly fainted just seeing her become corporeal as she’d fallen face first onto the couch next to him. She hadn’t seen him curled up in all the cushions!

“No! I’m not going to stalk him, sheesh Karkat.” Yes she is. “I briefly met him earlier today and I don’t know… he just seemed interesting and I want to actually talk to him! You have such a terrible impression of me, Karkat.” She pretends to pout, flipping the bread crust onto the floor.

He grumbles and narrows his eyes, before he seems to relent. “Fine fine, don’t fucking look at me like that. You’ll maybe one day be able to permeate my rock solid subconsciousness and make me feel bad or whatever the fuck. He’s Sollux Captor. An incredibly shit name for an absolute turdgoblin. Fits the sarky bitch to a T. Okay whatever, you’ve clearly stopped listening now. Great. How about you go moon over him somewhere else and leave me the fuck out of this, I’ve got enough on my plate without you getting involved.”

Too late, Karkat, she was already on the move towards her room, already thinking about the best route to take with contacting this guy or finding him again. Surely someone tech savvy would know how to cover his tracks properly and he definitely didn’t seem the kind to post his life all over social media. Unlike Karkat. The computer sings its little start-up tune as the screen flickers on, Aradia spinning a few times in her chair as she thinks. A message, maybe? A search first, obviously. Her fingers are poised over the keyboard as she considers her choices before she hears those soft voices. Gentle voices murmuring in her ears about their coming deaths and ah, there’s the pealing bell. It’s time to work. Now the search will have to wait.


End file.
